


Hainault Forest

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: Denmark Street musings [21]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Autumn, Communication, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Squirrels, Walks In The Woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21515428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: Denmark Street musings [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1035698
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49





	Hainault Forest

“Thank you for doing this.”

Strike smiled down at Robin, and squeezed her hand where it was tucked into his. He still couldn’t believe his luck sometimes.

“It’s not a chore, I promise.”

“It was a bit of a pain in the arse to get here.”

He couldn’t deny that. The walk from the Tube was too far for him, so they had brought the BMW, and they had sat through a lot of London traffic. Perhaps closing the office and making the trip on a weekday would have been better. Hard to justify with how busy they were these days.

“Worth it, though.”

“Oh, yes.” Robin sighed happily, and it was worth it. Worth hours in the car and the small fortune to park and the uneven ground he was struggling on.

He could see her point. The forest was beautiful, the trees a blaze of red and gold, amber and russet. A warm autumn and then a sudden frost had made all the leaves turn at once. The magical carpet of colour beneath their feet (that hid tree roots and stones he kept stumbling over) only added to the magical feel of the wood. Weak sunshine streamed through the branches. Birds flitted about, searching for any leftover berries, and squirrels scampered up and down tree trunks and jumped between branches.

Tugging on his hand, Robin dragged him to a fallen tree and they sat. He slid an arm around her - because he could do that these days, whenever he wanted - and she sighed happily.

“I just needed to get out,” she said. “Autumn leaves, and in the spring, banks of daffodils. That’s what I miss most. You don’t see the changing of the seasons, living in London.”

Strike put his head one one side. “Actually, once you get used to it, you can spot the signs. It’s just subtle. Nature is a bit in your face, in the countryside.”

Robin giggled and nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I just miss it sometimes.”

He tightened his arm around her. “We can come back in the spring and see the daffodils. I bet they have loads. And bluebells.”

Robin sighed. “Yeah.”

“Are you yearning to move back “oop north”?” he teased gently. She looked up at him, her face serious.

“Sometimes I do. London can be a bit much.”

He nodded. “I get that. Well, there’s nothing stopping you, if you wanted to, one day.”

She stilled, and he sensed he’d said the wrong thing. She looked at him appraisingly. “What about you?”

He looked down at her, wondering what she meant. He’d never stop her doing anything she wanted to do, surely she knew that. But the thought of her leaving made his heart ache. He’d been happier these last few months than he’d thought possible.

“I would never stop you doing something you needed to do,” he said, choosing his words carefully. Nevertheless, he knew he’d disappointed her.

“But you wouldn’t come with me?”

Strike thought of the business, his livelihood, his friends, his sister and nephews. The public transport in London that made life with one leg bearable.

“No,” he said, finally.

She looked at him for a long moment, then looked away. Silence descended.

“Robin—”

She jumped up and walked away from him briskly, her walking boots swishing in the leaves. Strike half-heartedly reached for her, but she was gone. He sat. There was no point in trying to follow. He was slower than ever on uneven ground with hidden hazards. He’d fall before he got ten yards if he tried to chase after her.

He sighed, and fished in his pocket for his cigarettes. He lit one and smoked and thought, watching Robin disappear round a curve in the path. She was walking away from the car park, which was behind them, so he sat and waited.

He thought about his childhood, and remembered how Leda had always been torn between the excitement of the city and the comfort of the countryside. The country was too boring, she said when they were there. Nothing ever happened. There were no jobs, no opportunities. But in London she’d yearned for the sky, the stars, the sea.

He had no right to tie Robin to him or to the business. She was a free agent. But the idea of her yearning for freedom twisted his stomach. He lit another cigarette and waited.

The forest was indeed beautiful. They’d seen several dog walkers, and a family with children, rosy-cheeked and wellington-booted. He wondered if Robin longed for a family, and sighed again. Birds chirped and fluttered.

Presently Robin reappeared, walking back towards him, slower now. Still Strike waited. She walked up to him without really looking at him and sat back down.

The silence stretched, and Strike wondered if she was waiting for him to speak.

“I wouldn’t try and drag you away, you know,” she said suddenly.

“I know.”

“I just—” She looked up at him and her grey-blue eyes were troubled. “We never talk about...us. Where we’re going.”

Strike shrugged. “Do we need to?”

“Maybe,” she said, still looking at him, watching him. “I don’t want to be another Elin or Lorelei, Cormoran. You don’t talk much about that stuff.”

Strike gazed back at her. “I know,” he replied eventually. “And I’m sorry. I just—”

He turned his eyes to the trees, watched a squirrel trot along a branch, trying to gather words together to say what he felt.

His hand found hers where it rested on the log between them. “Robin, I’m happier now than I’ve ever been. With you. More settled than I thought I could ever feel.”

He looked down at her again, and her eyes were brimming with tears. “But I would never tie you down, hold onto you. You’re free to go where you want, be who you want. Always.”

She swallowed hard, nodding, rubbing at the tear that spilled onto her cheek. “I know. But what if... What if I wanted to be tied down? One day?”

He smiled gently at her, and wiped the tear streak away with his thumb. “Then we can talk about that, one day. I’m not...against the idea.”

She nodded, her smile wobbly.

“And in the meantime,” he went on, “there’s a lane in the countryside near my aunt and uncle’s house that’s just lined with daffodils, two feet thick down both sides for hundreds of yards. How about I take you down there in the spring? Ted and Joan would love to get to know you, and I could show you all the old haunts where Ilsa and I grew up.”

Robin nodded again, more vigorously. “I’d like that.” She wiped her eyes.

He slid his arm around her again and pulled her close. She sighed deeply and rested against his shoulder.

He squeezed her gently. “We’ll work it out as we go.”

“We will.”

There was a long pause.

“I’m cold.”

Strike nodded. “Me too. And my arse is numb.”

“There’s coffee in the car.”

“Let’s go, then.”

He stood, stretching, stiff, and pulled Robin to her feet. She tucked her hand into his again and they set off back towards the car park.


End file.
